Chaser (Dive Bar #3)(6)

“Excellent,” said Jean. “I can’t wait to sleep in a decent bed again. Road trips when you’re seven months’ pregnant kind of suck.”

“I bet.”

“Who’s minding the kitchen?” I asked.

“Lydia will text Boyd if they need something,” said Nell. “We’re only going to be a few feet away from the place.”

I frowned.

“I own the kitchen, Eric. Not you,” she said. “You’re in charge of the bar, that’s all.”

One of Jean’s eyebrows inched up slightly.

So I might have implied that I was the sole owner. Shit happened. I crossed my arms. “Fine. No need to bite my head off.”

“My best online friend just moved to town. We’ve been texting and skyping for months. She’s been an absolute rock for me through all the nerves of being pregnant again,” said Nell. “Stop messing with my happy.”

And then there was an awkward silence. Great. If only there was some way to get out of helping without looking like a raging asshole. The possibility of anything happening between me and Jean had been buried six feet deep, never to be spoken of again.

After rubbing his hands together enthusiastically, Andre took a step forward. “Let’s get you moved in.”

“Right.” Jean stepped back without further argument. “Okay.”

Boyd managed a shy smile. Then he grabbed about half the contents of the vehicle in one swoop and headed inside. With her pillow, a green retro-style handbag, and one small box, Jean followed. I’d wanted to take the box, which looked heavy, but couldn’t think of a way to say so without inviting further wrath. Pregnant women were fragile. Nell knew that more than anyone. She should have been backing me up on this.

Andre and I loaded up next while Nell watched, making useful suggestions. Not. Her husband, Pat, must have been busy doing a tattoo, or no doubt he’d have been corralled into helping too.

The apartment Jean rented was the largest, situated directly above the Dive Bar. My brother, Joe, had been the builder in charge of the project, turning all of these old office spaces into apartments. The others were studio style. But this one had a main bedroom on the right by the door, and a separate office-type space to the left, along with the bathroom. Guess the office space would be perfect for a nursery. Down the end of the short hallway was the open kitchen/dining/living area. Joe had done a terrific job; the place looked like it belonged in a magazine.

And there stood Jean in the middle of it all, crying her goddamn eyes out, sobbing like her heart had been broken. Without thinking, I just snapped.

“What’d you do?” I yelled at a wide-eyed Boyd.

The big man cringed, gaze darting from Jean to me and back again.

“Did you say something?” Given Boyd was an elective mute, it was highly unlikely. But you never knew.

“Eric, it’s all right,” said Jean, wiping her face with the palms of her hands. “He didn’t do anything. I just…”

I set my boxes on the ground, face tight. “You just what?”

“This place,” she said.

“Hey now,” I said, my voice becoming a little sterner. “It might not be exactly what you had in mind, but my brother Joe built this place and I think he did a terrific—”

“It’s just perfect.” She looked around the room with a quivering smile. “I love it.”

“Oh-kay.”

Obviously sensing that the attention was off of him, Boyd made his escape. Fair enough.

“Don’t you think it’s amazing?” she asked.

“Ah, yeah. Sure.” My brother did good work and it was a damn nice apartment. But it wasn’t the Sistine Chapel or anything. “Amazing.”

“Yes,” she gushed, spreading her arms wide open as if she could embrace the apartment. “It already feels like home.”

“That’s good … I guess.”

“It’s great,” amended Nell, who entered behind me just in time to offer a constructive correction. She wrapped her arm around Jean’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze, while shooting me some sort of weird look. What it meant, I had no fucking clue. What, was I supposed to be a mind reader?

Andre set his load of crap down next to mine. Then he saw Jean’s red eyes and his forehead wrinkled. “Something wrong?”

“No, nothing,” I said. “She loves the place.”

He nodded as if in understanding. Show-off.

“How embarrassing,” said Jean. She fished a Kleenex out of her jeans pocket and blew her nose. Cheeks pink, she studied the hardwood floor, not meeting any of our eyes.

“Baby hormones,” said Nell. “Best fun ever.”

“I cried yesterday because a grocery store was out of chocolate milk.”

Nell cocked her head. “That, however, might be taking it a little too far.”

“Jean’s allowed to feel whatever the hell she wants to feel,” I said, a little pissed. Nell should be more careful. The last thing we needed was for Jean to start crying again. I stood tall, body rigid. “And chocolate milk is pretty great. You know, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

Jean just kind of gave me a blank look. But at least she wasn’t crying. Absolute silence followed. Nobody said anything, though Nell was gazing at me all weird again.